


Atircci

by ChanDoormat



Category: NASCAR - Fandom, NCT (Band), NCT 127 - Fandom, Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Alternate Universe - Nascar, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bang Chan is Called Chris, Bang Chan is a Good Friend, Beta Read, Dark Fic Fest, Dark fic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, I'm Sorry Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Internalized Homophobia, Mark Lee (NCT) Being an Asshole, Mark Lee (NCT) is Bad at Feelings, Mark Lee is a terrible person, MarkHyuck - Freeform, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Protect Haechan, Slow Burn, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Zombie Apocalypse, hyunin - freeform, hyunjeong - freeform, loud crier!mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChanDoormat/pseuds/ChanDoormat
Summary: Trauma can bring people together, but it can also be the opposite; trauma can tear people apart.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Taeyong, Bang Chan & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Bang Chan/Lee Taeyong, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Han Jisung | Han & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin & Seo Changbin, Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Moon Taeil, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Moon Taeil, Mark Lee & Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a comforting feeling. The rush of adrenaline one feels right before the pistol fires, right before the flash of green indicates you can go. The wonderful vibrations of your car starting up and the sound of revving engines that fills your ears. Racing is beautiful. That’s what they all think. 

Christopher Bang, chasing his dreams of professional racing since he first set foot in a gokart at thirteen years old. He’d come to Germany from Korea, where he’d moved from Australia. It was strange, because each and every place there was a race, he felt at home. As long as there was a car to drive and a track to drive it on, Christopher knew he’d be okay. 

Felix Lee, also Australian, it was his first year at Nürburgring. He was evidently nervous before the race, fiddling with his gloves nervously and fogging up his helmet with his breaths. Christopher had assured him it was alright, he’d gone up to him right before they’d all climbed into their vehicles. “You’ll do great, new kid.” He’d murmured, muffled by the heavy plastic of his helmet, but Felix had gotten the message. 

Seungmin Kim and Changbin Seo, both korean born. They were popular racers, and they always attended matches together. Public speculation wanted to say they were almost dating, but no statements were ever made. As far as fans were concerned, their friendship was beautiful. It’s not so often that racers truly have a good attitude towards one another both on and off air, especially with growing rivalry. 

Jeongin Yang, a young new racer. It was his first year in competitive racing, and his first time ever leaving Korea to begin with. He’d initially clung to Seungmin and Changbin, not knowing any German to get himself by, but his minimal english skills made it easy to converse with Christopher and Felix as well. He was, about as put together as a nineteen year old just joining a very hot and heated industry could be. Felix made an effort to comfort him the way Christopher had him. 

NCT-127. They were legendary. It was a fan-made group of sorts. None of them genuinely liked each other, and on multiple occasions they were caught slinging harsh words at one another outside of the stadium. Mark Lee, Taeyong Lee, Yuta Nakamoto, Jaehyun Jung, Jungwoo Kim, Donghyuck Lee, Johnny Seo, Doyoung Kim, and Taeil Moon. It seemed fate itself pitted them against one another. Every match they attended, at least half of the remaining circle was there competing as well. They were rivals to every definition of the word. 

Mark was feared in the industry, for his cold, unbreaking facade. Taeyong was a hit among female racer fans for his body, much like Jaehyun was. Yuta was showing up unexpectedly, having just recovered from a scandal after someone claimed to be his ex-boyfriend online and he was questioned by the public about his sexuality. Jungwoo was also new to the industry, like Jeongin; though it was his second year in competitive racing, and he was older.

Donghyuck wasn’t very popular for the public, but he tried. He attended as many competitions as he could, retaining many injuries in his time. The only unique quality the racing world recognized him for was the fact that in only four years of racing, he’d crashed his vehicle nine times. Johnny was popular, unlike Donghyuck. He had a good reputation for never crashing, though he’d been racing for just as long as Donghyuck had. Doyoung and Taeil had been roommates for a short time when they were in their college years, and so the public always knew them to be friends during their beginnings. At least, until they were caught in a heated argument at a Wendy’s in Australia before a game and promptly went viral in the racing world as the besties turned enemies. 

Hyunjin Hwang, a notable body in the racing community. It was rare that he attended competitions in Korea, let alone in other countries, so it had racing fans from all over foaming at the mouth to see him turn up at Nürburgring. Jeongin had tried to talk to him, only to be practically ignored when Hyunjin’s manager had called him over, gloves in hand. 

Minho Lee and Jisung Han, another dynamic duo. They often spent time together outside of the stadiums, much like Seungmin and Changbin, though Jisung had been rumoured to have a girlfriend. He put out a statement denying such a claim, though he was spotted with girls too often for people to take his word for it, so the idea of him being in a relationship with Minho was far from the minds of the public. 

So here they sat, all lined up and brought together, ready for the biggest race of the year. The pistol went off and all was normal. Engines revved and the audience roared from where they were lined up in the seats that decorated the complex. One lap in, Christopher had a lead, two, and Felix had taken it, smiling apologetically at him as he zoomed past just before the line. By the halfway mark of the third lap, the whistle was blown. The racers stopped in their surprise, rolling down their windows and pulling off their heads to listen to an emergency announcement that boomed over the loudspeakers of the stadium. 

Fans that peppered the seating, squeezed into the shitty bleachers that Nürburgring refused to patch up began yelling, scrambling for the exits like rabid animals and yelping so loud that all seventeen racers couldn’t hear what was going on. Slow moving people made their way towards them, skin tainted a sickly pale green hair falling out at the seams, approaching every living person they could find. It wasn’t long before the screaming was made louder, the unlucky patrons with high-up seating falling behind in the crowd and being picked off by the husks that made their way through; the racers were horrified. 

It was a panicked get away, rushing back into the cramped locker rooms that were hidden beneath the seating, frantically shoving everything they could manage into their bags, running through the back entrance of the stadium as fast as they all could. 

It was absolute chaos, not knowing where to go. Jeongin clung to Chris and Felix, Hyunjin followed as closely as he could. Doyoung and Taeil stayed close, mindful of one another’s presence, while Jaehyun and Johnny tried to keep them all together. Taeyong reasoned with Mark, who was refusing to budge from where he stood, right beside the door to the stadium, while Donghyuck shouted from behind him to hurry up. 

Yuta had been caught up with Seungmin and Changbin, who held hands and kept their eyes on him, making sure he wasn’t lost in the chaos, having already gotten a little too far from the rest of the racers for comfort, only kept party of the group by Minho and Jisung, who’d been stuck right in between them and the rest of the group. 

“Guys we can’t all split up, come on!” Taeyong yelled, both referring to those who kept walking despite the pull back, and at Mark who still wouldn’t budge. 

Donghyuck muttered a ‘Please’ under his breath as calmly as he could despite his distress, and Mark finally moved. Taeyong sighed in relief and waited until they were both in front of him to start pushing at them to hurry up. He was joined by Chris, who’d pushed himself to the back of the group with a shove, telling Felix to keep his eye on Jeongin. “They’re all practically kids, I’ve gotta make sure nobody gets lost.” He reasoned, and Taeyong nodded in agreement, counting the heads of his rivals like they were his own children. 

Too long after, they found themselves stumbling through the outskirts of Nürburg, rushing through a forest as the sounds of the town falling apart graced their ears. It hadn’t been an easy journey through the foliage, multiple zombie’s clutching at their clothes and teething at the thick Nomex of their clothing. Countless punches managed to push them off, all seventeen of them huddled together for warmth in the sharp November nighttime air as the sun set above them. 

It was hard to tell just how far they’d traveled before they laid their eyes on a warehouse, huge and rusty. It was dirty, with plants and vines winding up the sides, and at least one or two of the windows on the front were broken; it was enough for them. Sighs of relief from those both in front and in back sounded through the dampened air, and they were all shuffled inside the cold building. 

With a loud creak and the deafening slam of the thick door, they all collapsed to the ground. Christopher hurried to gather Felix and Jeongin, holding them both in his arms as the stress of their situation settled in and they both started to cry. Taeyong did the best headcount he could, relaxing into where he sat on the dirty floor when he confirmed they weren’t missing anyone. It wasn’t the most comfortable, and it wasn’t the cleanest. They were shivering in the cold and none of them could curb their growing stress and dread; but it was enough for the time being.


	2. Chapter 2

Early morning wasn’t as peaceful as they’d hoped. Almost every member was awoken by a womanly shriek coming from Jaehyun. Tired eyes widened at the presence of a zombie latched onto his leg, gnawing at the clothing and pulling at the edges of his pants. Johnny was quick to punch it off, standing to stomp on its head with a crunch before his ears perked up at the sound of a thud. 

They all looked over and found that the broken windows were giving zombies easy access, and they hurried to find something to cover them. Chris and Taeyong had pushed everybody but Johnny into a corner, searching around and pulling decayed support boards off of their beams to shove over the windows. Johnny hurried to find a way to keep them there, opting to pull empty shelving units over to hold them in place, now catching Jaehyun’s attention. Jaehyun stood up quickly as the zombies on the floor started to writhe, standing back up only to be punched right back down by Jaehyun. 

Once every first-floor window was good and covered, and all of three zombies that had made their way inside were taken care of, another collective sigh of relief danced through the air. A calm before the storm. 

“How the fuck did you let that happen?” Hyunjin chimed in.

Taeyong was quick to retort, “And who is ‘you’ supposed to be, exactly?” 

“You! You… you people!” Hyunjin motioned to everybody but himself with his hands.

“Excuse me?” Chris added. “You did nothing to help, you’re in no place to judge!”

“I’m in no place to judge? If you’d just boarded up the windows before we all fell asleep it wouldn’t have happened!” 

Chris’s mouth dropped wide. “Then why didn’t you do it?” 

“Because everybody else fell asleep! Dumbasses, you should’ve thought ahead better.”

“We don’t owe you productive thought, Hyunjin. If it was so important you could’ve done it yourself.” Taeyong retorted. 

“Then why didn’t you do it?” 

Hyunjin was getting everybody angry, and though young, Jeongin was easily ready to join the argument. “Can you pull your head out of your ass? Just because you’re too good for racing doesn’t mean you’re any better than us!”

“Who are you calling too good for racing? Last time I checked I’m still better than you, new kid.” Hyunjin stood up as he spoke, prompting Jeongin to do the same. “Know your place before you talk about shit that you’ve got no involvement in!”

“How about you know your place, pretty boy!” Jeongin waved his finger in front of Hyunjin’s face. “Don’t tell me to know my place when you barely even exist in the racing community, at least I give a shit!” 

“Jeongin, watch your language, can you guys please calm down?” Chris tried and failed to deescalate the situation. 

“Barely even exist? Have you seen yourself? You just started racing, I don’t wanna hear about who barely exists, when half the people in that stadium didn’t even know your name.” Hyunjin’s arm twitched, and Jeongin huffed. 

“Okay, and? At least I’m not only famous because I’m hot.” At Jeongin’s words, Hyunjin raised his fist, grabbing a hold of Jeongin’s collar. 

“Woah!” Chris yelped, grabbing onto Hyunjin’s arm to stop him from landing a punch on Jeongin’s face. Taeyong aided, prying Jeongin out of Hyunjin’s hold and pushing him towards Felix. 

“Listen,” Taeyong started, “Can we all fucking stop? Seriously? The racing world doesn’t mean shit when we might all die!”

“We’ll die faster if you listen to that hot-headed, over zealous, arrogant fucking infant!” Hyunjin shouted, fighting Chris’s hold. 

“Can you shut up?” Felix spoke up. “If anybody here is arrogant, it’s you! You just put your dumb pride so high that you’d punch a so-called ‘kid’, so don’t go telling us who’s arrogant!” 

“Lix has a point, but let’s seriously not fight, please.” Chris continued. 

“Lix? Why’d you call him Lix? You gay or something?” Mark chuckled. 

Seungmin and Changbin gasped in unison, and Yuta was quick to speak up. “What’s wrong with being gay?”

Taeyong scoffed, and Chris gave him a puzzled look. “Seriously, can we stop arguing?” 

“No, I want a word with the fetus!” Hyunjin yelled one more time before Johnny coughed, bringing the attention to himself. 

“I’m sick of you people already! Quit fighting!”

“Why should we listen to you?” Hyunjin retorted, only to be met with a harsh smack. Johnny’s hand stung on his face and he finally backed down, face hot with shame as he scampered over to the corner opposite the rest of the group. 

It was a long while of whispering, hushed conversations and panicked reasoning before they all calmed themselves down enough to meet again. It started with them all changing out of their race clothes, trading the thick material for softer, looser clothing. Then they all decided to go up the staircase, met with multiple rooms on either side. It was a comforting sight, there were upwards of twenty small shed-sized rooms, meaning they could all separate at some point. Only four of the rooms had windows, only a few empty boxes littering the interior. 

It was hard to arrange who got what rooms, but it was decided that the rooms with windows would go to Yuta, Donghyuck, Taeyong and Chris. Of course, it wasn’t an easy decision, and was mostly an argument, but after they’d worked it all out, they separated. Angry and tired, empty-stomached and scared for the future, it was a recipe for disaster. Another night of cramped, uncomfortable sleeping went by and they were awoken by the creaking of metal. 

Jeongin had risen early, climbing down the steps and found folding the boxes they’d collected from their rooms. 

“What are you doing?” Chris had asked, rubbing at his face and yawning as the morning sun from the windows pierced through his sleep-induced haze. 

Jeongin cleared his throat, smiling as genuinely as he could despite his nerves. “I thought I’d break these down, I’m trying to unfold them into beds for everyone.”

“Mm that’s nice of you, Jeongin.” Chris nodded, yawning again before plopping down on the bare floor. 

The rest of the group gathered quickly. 

“Good morning.” Felix yawned, met with a few tired good mornings of their own. 

Then Hyunjin had to open his mouth. “I slept like shit. Why didn’t you unfold these for beds earlier?” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it before.” Jeongin chuckled dryly, not wanting to argue again. 

“You never think ahead, you’ll never grow up until you do.” 

“Last time I checked,” Taeyong started. “You don’t think ahead either, so please stop bringing it up.”

“Even if I didn’t, I recognize that it’s a problem, isn’t that enough?” Hyunjin tilted his head as he spoke, his blonde hair messily dangling across his face, making it hard to see. 

“Quit acting like you’re better than everybody here, Hyunjin.” Donghyuck chimed in, glaring at Hyunjin with anger.

“I am better, I have a life outside of racing, and I have shit to worry about outside of this stupid fucking zombie situation!” Hyunjin yelled, throwing his hands up in the air above him for dramatic affect. 

“Like we don’t.” Jeongin murmured. 

“What was that?” Hyunjin snarled, angrily puffing out his chest and pulling Jeongin to look him in the eye. “What I’ve got outside of racing is ten times more important than anything you own, so I don’t want to hear shit.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean? Asshole!” Jeongin shoved him off, only to be met with a rough punch before Chris was once again pulling Hyunjin off of him. 

Chris yelled at them both, sending Hyunjin back up to his chosen room like he was a kid, not without a bitchy retort and a middle finger stuck in his face. He sighed in relief once the taller was gone, leaning down to look at Jeongin’s face and make sure nothing was broken. 

“I’ll talk with him later, don’t worry, Jeong.” Jeongin nodded up at him when he spoke, rubbing at his sore cheek and settling against the wall behind him. There’s no way they can continue if Hyunjin continues to act like this, and Chris knows.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, we all have to talk.” Chris started, staring into the floor at the center of the circle that he’d had the group form. He took a deep breath before looking up and scanning the other’s faces, catching the eyes of every one of them at least once. “First of all, Hyunjin.” He pointed his left finger at the male who was situated right across from him. 

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin spoke, much to the others’ surprise. “I’ve just been super stressed over what’s happening and I didn’t know how else to let it out. I’ll stop, I promise.” His words turned more into a sigh by the end of his statement, tears pooling on his lower eyelids and threatening to spill over. 

Hyunjin sniffled, rubbing at his eyes roughly in an attempt to fight the urge to break down right there and then. He was just about to get up and go for his room until a warm hand enveloped his own. He looked up and met the eyes of Jeongin, who moved his other hand to lay on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “It’s okay, we’re all stressed, we understand.” He gave Hyunjin a warm smile before pulling his hands back, giving him the strength to stay. 

Mark chimed in next, just as Chris was opening his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry too, my weird gay comment yesterday was a little uncalled for.” Though his voice sounded genuine enough, his face was plastered with a smile, strange for the situation; especially for Mark Lee, someone famously known for never smiling. 

“It’s… alright.” Seungmin returned, fingers intertwined with Changbin’s, whose one arm was swung around him, and the other around Yuta. 

Chris smiled as the group all exchanged glances. “This is great, now we can start on learning to get along. I know we used to all be rivals, but right now we really need to stick together. We will survive, okay?” 

The rest of the group let out a collective giggle, some more cheerful than others. A few woops went up in the air, shushed by the more concerned individuals regarding volume. They dispersed happily, breaking off into their collective groups. 

“Hyunjin.” Jeongin’s voice rang in his ears just as Hyunjin was about to turn into his room by himself, ready to let out his earlier breakdown. A big hand clutched the fabric of his shirt in two fingers, held loosely away from his own body. 

“Hm?” He questioned, turning to face the younger, and in turn making him drop the material from his grasp. Jeongin’s eyes were big as they met his, twinkling with their own natural light; they were decorated with the innocence of a child. 

“I’m sorry too.” His lips stayed pursed with the last syllable of his sentence. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry too,” He repeated, before adding onto his own statement. “I said some hurtful stuff too. I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I really look up to you.” Jeongin nodded along with his own words this time. 

Hyunjin giggled lightly, mood lifted at the younger’s awkward apology. “It’s alright, kid.” He reached up to ruffle Jeongin’s hair. “All is forgiven, and I think you’re a pretty good racer too. You’ll go far one day.” 

Jeongin’s eyes lit up at the praise. His lips parted into a wide smile, eyes squinting with the form of his grin. He bowed in gratitude before muttering a ‘thank you’ and scurrying off to go spend time with Felix and Chris. 

He’d hit Taeil’s shoulder on the way into the room. Taeil had been asking Chris a question, leaving quickly to go and hang out with Donghyuck. He frowned when he reached said male’s room only to be met with Mark’s face. Although, he wasn’t smiling anymore; his telltale frown decorated his face and his eyes were cold as ice as he swung the door open a little further, allowing Taeil to join the two. 

“Hi, Taeil.” It was rushed and nonchalant. Donghyuck was occupied with something. 

“What are you doing?” Taeil asked, sitting down beside Donghyuck with his back pressed against the wall. Mark sat on the other side of Donghyuck, eyes trailing down to where he was folding up thin bits of cardboard in a fast and confusing manner. 

“Ah, I’m trying to,” He huffed, eyebrows drawing tight when his hands fumbled. “Trying to make origami, not very easy with cardboard.” He bit his lip and folded the makeshift paper a few more times before holding up what looked like a very deformed crane. 

Taeil hummed in acknowledgement, eyes unfocusing on the crane and zoning in on Mark, who’d opened his mouth to speak. “You should’ve folded it before you ripped it into a square.”

Donghyuck looked at him questioningly, one eyebrow perked up. “What?”

“If you’d folded it before then your square would have been cleaner. One of your crane’s wings is too small, which means one of the corners is asymmetrical.” He pointed out, looking up to meet the confused and creeped-out gazes of both Donghyuck and Taeil. “What? I did a lot of origami in highschool.” 

Donghyuck and Taeil both let out a sigh at the reasonable explanation. “You know when you say stuff like that, it sounds really creepy.” Taeil spoke up. 

“Oh well.” It was easy to tell that Mark didn’t care all that much.


	4. Chapter 4

Two and a half weeks into the apocalypse. Food had become an increasing problem. With water bottles running low and halfway expired bags of trail mix coming up empty, it was becoming increasingly obvious they needed to do something. 

“We’ve got maybe three bags of chips left, and no more water. We’re gonna have to share Johnny’s gatorade.” Chris sighed, shaking his head in his hands. His knees strained against the concrete of the floor as he shifted his weight onto them, hands gently resting in front of them so he was bent like a sloth against the cold ground. 

Changbin scoffed, rolling his eyes and coughing lightly. “What are we supposed to do, exactly?” Anybody could easily tell he was annoyed by his tone of voice. Seungmin wasn’t with him as usual, wasn’t wrapped around his side like he liked. To top it all off, he was left with the only four people who would dare to bring attention to their worsening conditions. 

As much as Changbin knew deep down it needed to be talked about, knew that it wasn’t something they could just ignore, knew the problem wasn’t going to fix itself; responsibility wasn’t a preference in his life, he didn’t like having to step up and take things into his own hands. So, he normally didn’t. With most things in his life, he was only following along. 

With racing, he had only joined because his father had brought it up. He didn’t give any fucks about cars or anything to do with competition until he’d already been thrown head-first into the world of competitive racing. He’d only gone along with it; that didn’t mean he didn’t give it his all. Even with his personal affairs, he was never the doer. Seungmin had made the first move in their relationship. Seungmin had been the one to confess, Seungmin had initiated their first kiss, their first date, their first everything. That didn’t mean Changbin didn’t love him to the moon and back. 

Changbin, much like anybody else in this situation, found that he didn’t have much of a choice. Johnny, Chris, Taeyong, Yuta and himself were just about the only voices of reason. He held a certain respect for everybody in the group, a little bit more for said four. Chris had the traits of a natural leader, and he wasn’t afraid to take action when it came to emotionally or physically protecting the others; his own rivals, nonetheless. Johnny was more or less a scary softie. He was tall and bordering on muscular, too slim to be considered buff but too built to be considered skinny. He had a certain charm to him, a smile that he used to his advantage; he’d already put a smile on all of their faces during their increasingly trying times at least once. 

Yuta was a little different. Yuta was gay, much like him and Seungmin. It was hard not to sympathize with him. They all had spent time living full-time in Korea to some extent; it was no surprise that all three of them had encountered open homophobia within their lives before. Though Yuta was older, he seemed like a little kid. Changbin felt an almost parental instinct with him. They had been rivals forever, had even spit their fair share of harsh words at one another under a different setting. But heck, the world was already flipped upside down, right?

Even outside of their shared hardships, Yuta was a respectable racer and role model. Changbin had said to his face in public multiple times that he was a bad racer, that he’d beat him at every race they ever had against each other. Changbin was only half correct. Changbin and Yuta had gone up against one another maybe a handful of times total, not including their crudely interrupted finals race at Nürburgring, and he’d won each and every one. However, he knew that Yuta was a skilled racer. He’d won plenty of matches in his time, and even if he hadn’t, his character made up for it. 

Yuta had toured dozens of countries worldwide for his racing, and he’d also visited tens of dozens of elementary schools at each one. He’d been seen waving to children and hugging them for pictures hundreds of times, and even he would personally admit their youthful smiles were something he motivated himself with. It was easy to say that Yuta was a great person. 

Taeyong was leader-like, much like Chris. As much as he would have sworn up and down he hated the entirety of NCT-127 with every ounce of his being in any other time and place, Changbin could tell by now he wouldn’t have meant it. It was the way he flipped so quickly from glaring at them from across a stadium, mouthing foul words to every single one of them, to stalling in the back of the crowd as they ran for their lives. It was a risky position to take, he could’ve easily been picked off by a flesh-hungry zombie at any point, and none of them would have noticed until it had been too late. It was admirable the way he’d risk himself like that; all under the guise of keeping the rest of them in check and making sure they all made it okay. He’d never admit it, but it was obvious he cared for all of them in his own way. 

It was a quick conversation between the five of them. Chris and Taeyong exchanged quick glances at one another, eyes meeting and mutually sharing their growing anxiety. Food and water was running low, and there was just about nothing they could do about it. 

Venturing outside of the warehouse was new to them, none of them having left the cold, dark confines of it’s thick metal walls ever since they’d arrived. They kept it as tidy as they could, trying desperately to feign homeliness. There was an organized room to rid of waste, with their tied-together race uniforms hanging on the door in an attempt to filter out the stench. But even as it crept through, even as the warehouse began to reek of feces and un-showered bodies, none of them even considered leaving. 

They were all too afraid. Who wouldn’t be? Dwell too far and nobody would even hear your screams for help when you’re trapped; pinned to a corner by writhing, undead, flesh-eating monsters. Even if they traveled as a group, what were their chances of survival then? They could be easily outnumbered. From just peeking through the in-tact windows, there were hoards easily three-times the size of their group that littered the surrounding forest, effortlessly spotted and tracked through the leave-less branches of the chilly early-winter landscape. 

All the conversation brought them was more dread. Chris and Taeyong were visibly shaken by the time they’d dispersed, Yuta had gone silent before he’d gone to his room. Johnny looked lost in thought, but it was a lost cause to try and figure out what he was thinking. Changbin had no choice but to go back to his own room, head full of thoughts. Though he wanted nothing more than to curl up with Seungmin, he knew the male was sleeping. 

Or, at least he thought. Seungmin was actually pacing back and forth within his small room. His pockets were loose and the jingling of his car keys could be heard from just outside his door, heard well enough for Mark to peek his head in. 

“What’s that jingling?” He questioned, eyes scanning up and down Seungmin’s figure to search for the source of the high-pitched sound. 

Seungmin hummed at his question, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys, holding them up in front of himself. “Keys, I kept them with me when we left Nürburgring. I don’t really know what to do with them now, though.” He nodded at the end of his sentence, stuffing the cold metal back into his pocket with another jingle, waiting for Mark to say something. 

Mark zoned out, staring at the floor lost in thought for a good minute or so before he said something. The tension in the room had built to a point where Seungmin couldn’t see his words as a joke. Though, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. “You should go back to Nürburgring.” 

The words hung themselves on thick air, clinging to the heavy atmosphere. “What?” Seungmin wanted the statement to be nothing more than a joke. He internally crossed his fingers, hoping that he wouldn’t have to explain to Mark why that was a terrible idea. The fact that Mark would even joke about that was unsettling, but it was better than the idea that he’d seriously suggest it. 

“You should go back to Nürburgring.” Mark repeated. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

“No.” Mark’s confirmation made his chest feel heavy and his stomach go queasy. Seungmin wasn’t necessarily squeamish to stupidity, but he would easily admit he had a very low tolerance for it. Not to mention, it was pretty disturbing that in the middle of the apocalypse, someone in their group would suggest something that would almost definitely get him killed. “It’s not a bad idea, you could go back and get your car. You’d be protected on the way back and it’d be easier to go looking for food and water if we had a vehicle.” Mark’s reasoning took a reasonable stance, and although he said it in an almost professional tone, it left a sour taste on the tip of Seungmin’s tongue. 

He squinted his eyes with a glare. “That’s… a terrible idea.” 

“But-” Mark started, Seungmin wasn’t in a mood to let him continue. 

“I’ll die. I don’t know about you, but I actually enjoy being alive.” Stubborn or not, Seungmin felt like he was right. 

“If you liked being alive, you’d go!” Mark whisper-yelled, not wanting to bring unwanted attention. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “We’re all going to starve and dehydrate if you don’t go.” 

“I’m sure we’ll find a way-” This time Seungmin was the one being cut off. 

“That includes Changbin.” Mark stated. His tone had dropped to a cruel and vexing pitch, voice heavy on the air like his earlier suggestion and the implications of his words pulled on Seungmin’s heartstrings an unhealthy amount. “You wouldn’t do that to us, to him! He’ll sit in that little room of his for days, slowly dying a painful death. You can’t hold his hand through that, Kim Seungmin.” 

Mark cleared his throat and Seungmin opened his mouth to speak before closing it again when the words wouldn’t come out. The idea of Changbin writing on the cold floor of his small, cramped room all alone in the dark made his heart break. The pain must have been unbearable from what he’d seen and heard in books and movies. He couldn’t put Changbin through that could he? “But, what if I die?”

“Then at least you died trying. If you’re such a good friend for Changbin, why would you give up? Really wanna go out knowing that you could have at least tried, knowing that you could have done something, but you didn’t?” Mark’s eyebrows were turned up the way cartoon characters’ eyebrows are when they’re sad. It was almost comical how sympathetic he looked. 

“But-” Once more, Seungmin found himself being talked over. 

“No buts, do you want to at least try and do something for the group or are you just going to let us all die? You know what you have to do, please, I’m begging you.” 

Seungmin shivered in place when Mark placed his hands on his shoulders. Rising guilt built up in his chest and he found it increasingly hard to breathe. He couldn’t let the rest of the team die, he couldn’t let Changbin die. But was he really willing to risk himself like that? He wasn’t sure of himself, half of him wanted to do the right thing, and the other half just wanted Mark to stop talking. His answer wasn’t even half-way decided on when he muttered it out, quietly so as to not lose hold of his emotions. “I’ll do it.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was cold outside. The birds were quieter than they used to be. Bugs refused to buzz even as they crawled silently on the ground, tickling at Seungmin’s legs despite the fact that he wore three layers, pants tucked into his ankle-high rubber boots. His eyes darted back and forth in an attempt to distract himself, but it did little more than further his ever-growing nerves. 

Seungmin was scared. He was terrified. He didn’t want to follow through with what he was about to do, and yet even as he clutched his keys tightly to his chest, hands trembling in his thick gloves, he ventured forth. Heavy feet fell on soft ground with every passing step and Seungmin still felt like his destination was thousands of miles away. 

He turned around once more, facing Mark where he stood in the doorway of the warehouse. They met eyes briefly, Seungmin internally pleading to chicken out, to be let back into the warehouse despite the fact that he was too scared to form words; he was met with a raised hand shooing him onwards, a smirk on Mark’s face encouraging him to go. There was no backing out of it now, he’d already gone too far. 

One more pitiful blink and he ripped himself away, turning and forcing himself to walk. He weaved his way through trees, trying his best to stay quiet and not be seen by any of the many zombies he could spot through the empty branches of the trees around him. The air was crisp and freezing, his breath forming a cloud around his face that could barely be seen in the early pre-sunrise morning with every labored breath out. It felt like forever that he was walking, legs moving on their own to carry him through the forest. One more turn around and he found that he could no longer see the warehouse from where he stood, and it finally sunk in just how unsafe he truly was; Seungmin felt alone. 

“He’s where?” Changbin’s voice was just below a shriek when it rang out through the open space of the warehouse. He had just barely caught word that Seungmin had been sent out alone back to Nürburgring, suffice to say he was not happy about it. 

“I sent him to go back to Nürburgring, he still had his car keys so he said he’d get his car and come back.” Mark spoke in a matter-of-factly type of voice, nodding his head along with every other word that left his mouth. His hands rested on his hips, swaying back and forth like he didn’t care about what was happening. “This way, it’ll be easier to get food and go travelling.”

“He could die, Mark!” Changbin shouted, throwing his hands up in the air with disbelief. 

Mark scoffed. “Then at least he dies trying, he did it for you, you know!” The exclamation made Changbin go silent. He tried to open his mouth to speak, to retort Mark’s claims somehow, but his words died in his throat. 

Changbin breathed out heavily, taking a step back and crouching to the ground with his head in his hands. “No…” It was barely a whisper. Changbin couldn’t bring himself to accept it, Seungmin wouldn’t do something so stupid. 

“Yes.” Mark retorted, a smirk plastered on his face. Changbin stared up at him, dumbstruck until finally, his brain clicked. 

“You made him do it, didn’t you?” His tone of voice wasn’t even accusatory, only calm and collected in a way that Changbin wasn’t commonly known for. “You pressured Seungmin into doing it, didn’t you?” 

“Changbin,” Chris started, mouth agape as he reached a hand over to rest on Changbin’s shoulder. “Let’s not jump to conclusions?” It was more of a suggestion than a request. 

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, something’s been off about that creep this whole time!” He yelled, pushing Chris’s hand off of his shoulder and standing up. “What the fuck did you say to him to make him go, you fucking weirdo?” 

“You seem oddly passionate for someone who’s only friends with the guy, Seo Changbin.” Mark dodged his interrogation, strange in the way that it was entirely unrelated to their conversation. 

“Mark, let’s not make gross accusations-” Taeyong started from behind Mark, talking for the first time since the feud had started, uneasiness lacing his statement as he was cut off.

Changbin growled, shouting back with enough force to strain the back of his throat. “Because we’re not! We’ve been dating for fucking years, and the last thing we need right now is for you to be a smart ass about it! You could’ve gotten him killed!” He caught sight of Taeyong’s expression, eyebrows pulled tight and lips pulled in thin; he looked at Changbin like he was grossed out. “The fuck are you looking at?” Changbin spit out, shaking his head before he pushed past Mark, headed out of the door. 

“Where are you going?” Chris questioned, hurrying over to stop Changbin before Taeyong’s hand landed on his shoulder, keeping him back. 

“I’m going after him, you people piss me off.” Changbin muttered one last time before he left, slamming the door behind him. 

“Now you’ve gone and made him leave!” Donghyuck shouted, punching the side of Mark’s arm. He had been standing beside the male for the entire conversation, trying his best to take a neutral point of view. 

Mark’s eyes lingered on his lips when they were pursed inwards, gaze travelling back up to his eyes where they glared at him angrily. “You’re pretty when you’re mad.”

Changbin ventured out into the cold, stomping through the cold forest with all his might as he whispered to himself. His head was full of anger, full of resentment. There was no way Seungmin would do this on his own, right? Changbin could never see the hard-headed, logical person that Seungmin was making such a dumb decision, especially without consulting him first. It made Changbin question himself for a bit, wondering if he truly did know everything about Seungmin or not. He came to the conclusion that there was no way Seungmin wasn’t pressured, and if there was, then Changbin didn’t want to hear his reasoning. 

It was a long journey, angrily stomping through the forest in the direction of Nürburgring, wondering if Seungmin had taken this exact trail, wondering if Seungmin had even made it. He walked and walked and by the time the sun had peeked its head over the horizon and soared into the sky, his eyes just barely grazed the edges of the forest. It was hard to tell just how many zombies peppered the surroundings, the burning city all too chaotic for him to process. Bodies lay lifeless on the ground, equally deceased flesh-hungry creatures tearing into them, scampering about in every direction with no clear destination. 

He leaned on the edge of a tree, hand gently laying on the rough bark, scratching his skin accidentally on it’s jagged ridges. He shook the hand back and forth, sucking in a fast breath and letting it out just as he dropped his hand back down to his side. He shivered, adrenaline just barely clearing up enough for him to feel the effects of the early winter air. In his angered haze, he found that he’d stormed off without a passing thought to his attire. He wore a thin tee shirt, with sleeves that just barely reached his mid-bicep, and basketball-style mesh shorts that left his knees out in the crisp wind. His sockless toes curled in his sneakers in an attempt to gather bodily warmth that wasn’t there, cold sweat peppering his tanned skin when he couldn’t grasp onto enough heat to warm himself up. 

He took another breath in, holding it for a few seconds, and he ran. He ran like his life depended on it, because it did. He sprinted for dear life, headed straight in the direction of the stadium that stuck out like a sore thumb, even in the midst of a once bustling city. He clenched his jaw and felt the veins in his neck pop out, he could feel sweat running down his face as he clambered towards his destination with more determination than he had ever given a race in his life. 

It was all too quick that his hands were fumbling with the handle of the back door of the stadium, moving as fast as he possibly could. He could hear the growling of nearby zombies closing in on him, squinting his eyes and gasping for breath. His chest heaved and his fingers failed to grip the knob properly, numb with the cold winter air. Just as he heard the steps of a zombie get far too close for comfort, he managed to get his hand around the metal, swinging the heavy metal door open and pushing it right up against the body of the flesh-eating monster; he practically threw himself into the building. 

He struggled to get the door closed, a cold, dead hand sandwiching itself in between the door and the wall just as he’d attempted to swing it shut. He growled, the sound rumbling up from the back of his throat. He brought a hand up, circling his shoulder a few times to mentally ready himself. He tightened the hand that pulled on the handle of the door one last time, before he pushed the door back open, punching the insipid husk as hard as he could, effectively throwing it back just enough for him to pull the door shut properly. He scrambled to find something to keep it shut, opting to pull a cooler that rested just to the side of the door over it. It was large, just big enough to fit snugly against the underside of the knob. Even as the metal bar wiggled, fidgeting up and down with the force of the zombie on the other side, the door didn’t budge. 

He sighed with relief, hunching over with his hands on his knees as he heaved noisily in an attempt to take in more oxygen. It was a good minute or two before he could adequately function again, energy still coursing through his veins even as his eyelids threatened to flutter shut at his physical exertion. He couldn’t yet, he wasn’t done. He looked up and to the sides, noting the lack of zombies on the inside of the stadium walls. He kicked around in the dirt of the unfinished floor, shaking his head before he finally stood back up, heading up to the door that led to the locker room. His breathing was still shallow and uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as he turned the knob and opened the door, ready for the worst. Nothing. 

Another relieved sigh left him as he ventured further into the locker room, eyes falling on a detached bench leg that rested just on top of a row of lockers. He approached it, grabbing the object with his right hand and looking it over. He decided to keep it, tightening his fingers around it and moving forward, approaching the last door that separated him from the open space of the stadium. He took another deep breath like he had before his sprint, opening the door with one, rather crude movement. It would have been more smooth, more fluid of a motion had he not been trembling in fear. 

He approached the track, stood just where he had before the race, eyes desperately falling on every car he saw until he’d found Seungmin’s. When he had, the lack of zombies that attacked him suddenly made too much sense. The vehicle was covered, swarmed with zombies, so much so that he could barely see the bright and annoying colors of the car’s sponsorship stickers. The once vibrant and happy-looking, barely visible blue-red paint job served to remind him of a better time, the melancholy melody of a song only Seungmin knew how to sing playing back in his head. 

Wide eyed, mouth-agape, his adrenaline surged again. Changbin sprinted once more, breathlessly bounding over to the vehicle as fast as he could manage. The second he’d made it within earshot of the hungry monsters, he found himself targeted. The swarm split, and he was almost grateful that the entire group hadn’t descended upon him. His arms strained, his legs ached, and with every breath he took, he swung the bench leg in the direction of another lifeless body. It was like he moved on his own, his fight-or-flight taking complete control over it as he fought against the wave of undead flesh-hungry creatures that wanted so desperately to destroy him. 

He manhandled them, kicking back as many zombies as he could with as much strength as he could until they laid in a writhing pile, tripping over themselves in their movements and effectively giving him at least a few seconds to breathe before he approached Seungmin’s car. His arms weaved their way through the knotted bodies of the zombies, hands grasping tightly at squishy, cold-skinned arms and throwing the attached monsters off as far as he could. He swung his bench leg, blood sputtering into his face when he unintentionally nailed one of the monster’s in the neck, eliciting a spray of cold, death-browned blood. 

Even as he felt rotted teeth dig into the flesh of his right wrist, he didn’t stop. He screamed in pain and his arm jerked, but it only served to reflexively pull his other arm up and swing his empty fist at the zombie’s face, launching it off the hood of the car and off to the side. 

Finally, once he’d thrown most of the horde off of Seungmin’s car, he knocked fervently on the window of the vehicle, met with the sound of the door unlocking. He yanked the door open, met Seungmin’s wide, terrified eyes with his own and the tears that he’d been forcing down the entire duration of his journey at once escaped. 

“Seungmin.” He happily whispered his name, reaching into the car to cup the male’s face in his hands. Seungmin’s shaking hands reach up and wrap around his own, fingers brushing against his. No tears streamed down Seungmin’s face like Changbin, no effort-induced flush decorated his face. He was pale and trembling, mouth hanging open just the tiniest bit, pupils blown wide as he grasped onto Changbin’s fingers.

Changbin’s hands left his face, reaching down to fumble with his seatbelt, to get him out of the car, get him back to safety; anything to get Seungmin back in his arms. He struggled again, energy-high gone and fingers trembling with his fear; the hand that had been bitten starting to go numb and limp, already losing color at the fingertips. “You got bit.” Seungmin’s voice was small, shaky. He’d stated the obvious, but Changbin wasn’t listening. He couldn’t find it in his heart to reply, to agree. His hand had, in fact, been bitten. He would have to leave the group if they survived, at best he’d have to cut off his arm in hopes that he wouldn’t turn. It had been too long already, it would all be in vain. 

He cursed under his breath, hands fully failing him. He looked back up into Seungmin’s eyes. He wanted to apologize, wanted to ask if Seungmin could do it. He could tell, though, from the male’s labored breathing that he was in no condition to move. Seungmin was paralyzed with fear, colorless and dull, like he’d lost a part of himself on the way there. Changbin realized all too late that he’d taken too long. The growling and moaning of the zombies behind him served to become a painful reminder to just how useless this entire trip had been. Right as cold hands grasped at the cloth on his shirt, right as a set of teeth sank into his lower leg from the ground, ripping a chunk out of the flesh, he pulled Seungmin’s hands into his own. 

They were warm, unlike his own. He watched salty tears well up in Seungmin’s eyes, his face finally showing signs of emotion in the form of a tightly pulled frown. They fell down his face like waterfalls, much like the tears that caked his own skin. Changbin leaned in and pressed one last kiss to Seungmin’s lips. He whispered gently, “I love you.” It was hard to get out through the overwhelming pain that twinged in his leg, but he managed. 

Seungmin yelled, screaming as loud as he could. Whether it was out of anguish or out of fear, Changbin couldn’t tell. The threads of his shirt gave in, and surprisingly strong nails tore into the skin of his back when the fabric fell to either side of him. He could feel blood dripping down, dampening the hem of his shorts. He was torn away from Seungmin, and he watched all too familiar, colorless hands reach for him. He failed to take in another breath of the world around him through his pain before his senses failed him, and his vision went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Days had started to blend together for Jeongin. They had for everyone, but with each passing second he spent with Hyunjin time flew by quicker than he could comprehend. It didn’t matter if they were talking about racing, sharing tips on ways to maneuver their cars to ensure their success, or if they were talking about mundane topics like Jeongin’s school life. 

He found himself wanting to be near Hyunjin more, and at first he’d convinced himself it was just because he’d seen him as a role model. But the more time he spent with him, the more he realized it was all too easy to lose himself staring into his expanse of long, bleach-blonde hair. He found that it was almost difficult to leave the taller male’s side, his cat-like appearance and plump lips all but haunting Jeongin’s dreams when he did. 

He wanted to tell himself it wasn’t true, tell himself that in the middle of an apocalypse it was just his hormones. He was barely an adult, practically a teenage boy, it was natural for his body to be going haywire. It only settled his mind temporarily, because by the time he’d spent nearly two months glued to Hyunjin’s side, it was more than just a weird dream every now and then. 

It had almost all started when Seungmin and Changbin failed to return home. After a week of desperate waiting and cursing Mark under their collective breath, they’d given up. Chris had buried his head in his knees and cried, mumbling out the sorrowful thoughts that poisoned his head and made him believe it was his fault for not knowing. It hurt to see Chris like that, he’d barely known them a month and here he was; he was an emotional wreck on display for all of them. Jeongin had pulled Chris close to his chest, then. He’d pulled his face into his shoulder and leaned into the warmth that enveloped him when the older’s arms wrapped themselves tightly around him. Chris only sobbed harder, rubbing his face into the crook of his neck, but at least Jeongin was doing something to help. 

It made Jeongin himself feel a little vulnerable, shaken to see someone who had so obviously prided himself on being a natural leader practically falling apart. Chris had shrugged him off after he’d collected himself, pushing him away and demanding to be left alone in his room for as long as he needed. Jeongin felt as though he’d needed the hug as much as Chris, but he wasn’t ready to leave the comfort of someone’s arms. He’d scampered over to Hyunjin, staring up at him like a wounded fox in the wild. Hyunjin had opened his arms, letting Jeongin crawl into his embrace and let out his own rounds of pitiful sobs into his slender, less-built chest. 

Whether it was just the effects of spending so much time with him from then on or not, Jeongin couldn’t tell. He’d bonded with Hyunjin then, established a safe place with him. Hyunjin was like a symbol of hope, a place of solace in an otherwise unstable environment. Maybe that was why Jeongin had developed a reliance on him. Maybe that was why Jeongin fell so hard. 

Jeongin didn’t know if he was gay, never wondered about it in his younger years. He’d never put a label on what he felt for other people, his time was always unavailable, taken up by racing to keep his heart beating fast. He’d preferred it that way, preferred the jittering of an engine over the warmth of another human being. An adrenaline rush coursing through his veins was the only way he liked getting his heartbeat going, the only place and time he wanted his heart racing was on a track, with his fingers clenched tightly around the leather of an expensive steering wheel. 

When he joined competitive racing, it was decided for him; he never needed anything else but this. The second the pistol fired and he set off on his first professional race, he was in love. He felt alive, zooming through the track. Even though he’d barely managed to scrape by with third place, it was Jeongin’s happiest memory. Gone were his days of spending all his pocket money on go-karts with his friends, he was finally in a real car, with real sponsored stickers plastering the cheesy paint job. 

Now, he didn’t have that. Within minutes it had been ripped away from him, and he’d realized too late that it had only sunken in right then and there when he’d let himself snap in Hyunjin’s embrace. Whenever he felt hurt, he ran to racing. He ran to hop into his car and take off in any direction he could go as fast as he could, it was like the flooring that kept him up; his floor had given out. The feeling of having everything he’d ever loved ripped away from him came too late, came weeks after it had happened, and it had only given the feeling time to swell up. The tears almost weren’t enough, he felt like he was being crushed. His love was gone, his life felt as though it was over, and the presence of death hung heavy around them. They were unsafe, they were at risk, they were going to die. It was too much for him. 

It was no wonder he ran to Hyunjin time and time again. If racing was his life, Hyunjin was his god. He looked up to him an almost unhealthy amount. Hyunjin was one of the coolest racers he’d ever seen, and knowing that they were so close age wise was one of the things that inspired Jeongin to get professional with his racing. No matter how many lifeless, flesh-hungry zombies roamed around outside, Jeongin thinks he still would have fallen. 

So here he was, fiddling with his fingers and picking at the skin in the corner of his nail, shifting his weight back and forth on the heels of his feet. He stood in front of Hyunjin’s door, the unsightly metal only making it seem that much less approachable. He gulped, attempting to swallow back, raising an arm to the door and knocking as fast as he could, leaving little room for more hesitation. He was met with a muffled ‘come in’ and let him hand rest on the door knob. Though he promised himself it wasn’t going to be as difficult as he thought, promised himself nothing would go wrong, he still shuddered in place. 

The majority of the others weren’t in the warehouse, out shuffling through the dense forest paths off to the side of the building in an attempt to find some way to attain resources. They’d long since run out of sustainable food, water was barely a passing thought outside of dirty, freezing creekwater that had been brought back on some of their journeys out. They’d taken to travelling in groups of five or more, to have each other covered on all sides. It was scary for the remaining individuals, sitting around and waiting for their return, not knowing for sure if it’ll even come. Jeongin had yet to venture out, though. He’d begged and he’d whined like a toddler that wanted candy, and all it had done was get him pulled into a tight hug by Chris. Chris’s hands stroked his hair gently as he spoke, reasoning with him that he was too young, and despite his protests, he relented. If Chris wanted to leave it to the older members of the group, then so be it. 

It gave him much needed lonesomeness. With a group of twelve gone, only four other people lingered in the space besides Hyunjin and himself. It brought Jeongin a little bit of peace, knowing if he’d confessed and he was brutally rejected, the chances of him being seen or heard were little. Hyunjin wasn’t the type of person to be mean and talk about it afterwards, so even if he was rejected, as long as he stayed on the side of his odds that let him get away without being discovered, he was good. 

He sucked in another anxious breath, and pushed the door open. It was squeaky on his hinges and he felt his hands trembling against the metal of the handle, hurrying his way into the small room and standing beside Hyunjin where he sat on his little make-shift bed. He’d slung a few extra shirts from his bag over his slab of cardboard, scrunching the receptacle up to use as a pillow. It was less than ideal, and did little more than leave painful indentations in Hyunjin’s skin when he slept on the lumpy surface, but it was better than nothing. 

“Hi, Jeongin.” He greeted, looking up from where he sat idly, fiddling with his fingers and tracing loose patterns on the ground to occupy his mind. He smiled up at Jeongin, eyes closing ever so slightly with the weak force of his grin. 

Jeongin cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting back and forth between his heels for a bit longer before he decided to sit down beside the taller male, still contemplating how to reply. He was a newbie to starting serious conversations, with little experience in the field of romance and no romance in his environment to cling to, he was on his own. He couldn’t quite find a way to smoothly connect it into a conversation, no matter how much time he spent alone scripting out conversations between Hyunjin and himself in his head, trying to plan out exactly how he wanted it to go. “Can I tell you something?” He’d practically squeezed the words out of himself, breathing out harshly once he’d finished his question. 

“Of course, kid.” Hyunjin encouraged him, wordlessly urging him to continue on when he’d leaned towards Jeongin, bumping their shoulders together. “You can tell me anything.”

“I…” Jeongin started, mind coming up blank once more. He didn’t know how to word it, couldn’t find the right words to spit out how he felt. “I think I’m gay?” The pitch of his voice hooked upwards at the end of his sentence, more in question of himself rather than Hyunjin. 

He looked up and made eye contact with him, watching Hyunjin’s sharp eyes blink down at him. “Okay. That’s fine, Jeongin.” He could tell by his tone he was confused, and a blush made his way onto his face when he realized his wording had been completely wrong. Hyunjin’s voice was reassuring, unsure but reassuring; not the tone Jeongin expected, but he could work with this. 

“No, I mean-” He shifted where he sat, turning his body to face Hyunjin completely, looking him back in the eyes. “I’m like, I’m gay for you, like you specifically.” He muttered, eyes searching Hyunjin’s for any kind of emotion he could. 

“Jeongin-” Hyunjin started, stopping himself midway. He tore his eyes away from the younger’s, looking back down at the floor. “You’re just young, and we’re in a stressful situation. You shouldn’t be saying stuff like that so willy-nilly.” 

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrowed, pulling tight across his face. He pouted, speaking once more. “No, it’s not just because of that. I’ve thought about this a lot.” He cleared his throat again, burning shame making his face heat up. Hyunjin’s response had all but destroyed the confidence he had, but he was determined. He convinced himself it was just a misunderstanding, convinced himself to talk again. “I like you, a lot, Hyunjin.” He held his breath as he finished his statement. 

Hyunjin sighed, and it made tears well up in his eyes. He was afraid, not only scared of being rejected, but also of ruining his budding friendship with his role model. “I’m married, Jeongin. I have a wife, and a family…” Oh. That hurt. That hurt a lot. The words sent almost physical pain shooting up his chest, and made the tears that pooled on his lower eyelids fall. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, it felt like it was hard to breathe. Something about the image of Hyunjin laughing and spinning a small, petite woman around in his arms with that same smile he’d given Jeongin when he entered the room didn’t sit right with him. Something about Hyunjin giving a beautiful lady the attention he’d given Jeongin in his strange, hormonal dreams made his heart hurt. He felt strange about it, it was a different pain from when the reality of having lost racing hit him, and for some reason it hurt so much worse. “Don’t cry, Jeongin.” 

He could tell Hyunjin was just trying to be nice, but the soothing tone he’d used to comfort Jeongin in that moment only made him want to cry harder. Jeongin couldn’t talk, he didn’t trust himself not to openly sob if he opened his mouth. So he didn’t. Instead, he opted to just wait for Hyunjin to make eye contact with him. When he did, Jeongin nodded to acknowledge that he’d heard him, before standing up and turning to leave. He pushed his way out of the door and closed it behind him, eyes passing over Taeyong where he stood on the other side. He blinked, sending another wave of salty tears splashing down his face. He hurried past him, shuffling down the stairs. He approached the door of the warehouse, gently resting his hand over it, breathing heavily. He told himself that he needed fresh air, hand leaving the knob to wipe at his tear stained face just as the door swung open. 

Chris peeked his head in, turning it around the side of the door as though he’d known Jeongin was there and flashing him a smile, walking into the building. “Hello, Innie!” His face was plastered with happiness and decorated with his signature dopey smile, reaching up to mess with his ratty hair before swinging his bag off of his shoulder. He threw it down onto the ground in front of Jeongin, unzipping it and pulling it open. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on it with his two front teeth as he crouched down and dug around through the bag for whatever he was looking for. A few seconds of searching and his lip was released from it’s confines, wide smile returning to his face and his eyes turned up to look into Jeongin’s. His hand lifted from the bag, a muddy keychain dangling from his fingers. 

Just then Chris noticed the tears that were dried fast to Jeongin’s face. “What’s wrong, Innie?” His smile dropped as he said it, rising back to his feet and stepping closer to Jeongin. He reached up gently, cupping Jeongin’s face in his hands. His face was laced with concern, and he looked at Jeongin like he was the only boy in the world. Jeongin would have enjoyed the attention otherwise, had it not reminded him painfully of Hyunjin and how badly he wanted the same attention from Hyunjin. 

Jeongin shook his head from the grip, pulling his face from Chris’s grip. He shook his head again, signalling to Chris that he wasn’t in a mood to talk about it. Chris nodded knowingly, pulling Jeongin into a hug. 

“That’s alright, here.” He pulled out of the hug when he finished talking, pulling Jeongin’s hands out to open beneath his own right hand, cradling the younger’s fingers with his left.. He dropped the keychain into his hands, watching him wipe the mud off with his fingers to reveal a light blue color. “I found it while we were out, it’s for you.” Chris offered him as comforting of a smile as he could, curling his hand around Jeongin’s, closing his hands with his own. 

Jeongin smiled back, strained and soggy, but he smiled nonetheless. He squeezed his palm around the wet plastic and stuffed it into his pocket, nodding towards Chris as a thank you before turning towards the door again. Until he felt a hand close around his wrist. 

“Where are you going?” Chris’s smile was gone, replaced by concerned eyes and a thinly drawn pout. 

“I just need some fresh air. Need to be alone.” He explained through still ragged breaths, struggling to keep his calm even with the elder’s warm hand keeping him firmly in place. 

He watched as Chris shook his head from side to side with a sympathetic look on his face. “It’s just too dangerous, Innie. You can’t.” Jeongin tsked, trying in vain to yank his hand from the Aussie's grip. “I’m sorry.” The apology was sincere, genuine sorrow lacing Chris’s voice. He looked up and into his eyes and they were full of remorse, full of care. It wasn’t enough to soothe Jeongin’s attitude but it was enough to get him to back away from the door, opting instead to tread up to his room, kicking his legs out over the blunted ends of the broken glass that decorated the edges of his window. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d jumped from the second story. He’d done it many times as a younger teen, grounded and desperate to get out of his house. It was an easy landing, knees straining with the harsh contact against the solid, wintery cold ground. He was quick to brush himself off, hurrying over to the concrete stairs that led up to the door of the warehouse. The sun had long since set, the moon rising in its place and dampening the night sky with a deep shade of blackened purple. The expanse of darkness was littered with stars, interrupted by the occasional clouds that messied the clusters with their idle journey. 

Jeongin’s brain ran rampant with all kinds of thoughts, chest drawn tight with his earlier rejection and he couldn’t get his mind away from Hyunjin. His mind’s eye travelled to Chris for a split second, remembering how he’d held Jeongin’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes with all of the concern in the world. It left a sour taste in his mouth, thinking back on it. Not necessarily because he didn’t want the concern, but rather that it wasn’t somebody he’d wanted it from. He felt almost snobby, felt spoiled that in the middle of an apocalypse his main concern was picking and choosing who he wanted his attention from. His heart hurt. 

“Jeongin?” The throbbing in his chest was put on standby when Taeyong’s voice echoed from behind. The door was cracked open, Taeyong leaning outwards towards him with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hm?” He hummed in question, turning his body to face Taeyong. He’d scooched out of the doorframe, closing said door behind him, opting to stand behind Jeongin. He settled his hands on his hips, uncomfortably shifting back and forth. 

“Why…” He started, taking in a troubled breath and stopping himself. Jeongin cocked his head to the side and made eye contact, urging him to continue. Taeyong’s expression changed to an undeniable scowl, as if he smelled something gross, eyebrows scrunched up and lips drawn tight. “Why do you… like Hyunjin?” It seemed forced with the way he said it, and it brought Jeongin’s defenses up. 

He raised an eyebrow before he responded. “Is there a problem with that?” With his rejection, and an evident stinging in his chest that he was entirely unaccustomed to, he was in no mood to argue the validity of his feelings for who he was now straining to call his friend. 

“You don’t have to get so defensive, you know.” Taeyong spat out, eyebrows drawing tighter against his forehead. “It just seems a little… gross.” 

“How so? What’s wrong with liking someone?” Jeongin made no attempts to soften his tone, Taeyong’s wording only having served to tick him off. 

Taeyong sighed heavily before speaking, gently kicking at Jeongin’s back, causing the younger male to stand up and puff out his chest defensively as he uttered his next sentence. “You’re both dudes, that’s kind of gross if you ask me.” 

“I think your opinion is kind of gross if you ask me, but at least I know how to shut up about it.” He placed his hands on Taeyong’s shoulders and pushed slightly, causing the older male to stumble a little. 

Expecting a reply more than he was expecting confrontation, he wasn’t prepared for the rough shove he received next; caught off guard, he fell to the ground, wincing when his bottom hit the rough concrete below him. His knee had scraped against the sharp curve of one of the stairs on the small structure, leaving him to clutch at it and hiss in pain, paying more attention to the throbbing pulse under his skin than to Taeyong. 

Before he knew it, another rough blow was landed, this time to his left shoulder. Taeyong’s leg hit him, hard. It sent him tumbling back further, tripping on the jagged edges of the stairs when he tried to find his bearings. When he did manage to get back up, he tried with all he could to mutter through his unanticipated pain. “What-”

Alas, it was for nothing, as a punch landed right against his lower jaw; he felt his nose gush blood with that. “A homo has no right disrespecting me.” He heard the words muttered into his ear, right as a hand weeded its way through his matted, greasy, unwashed hair. He was yanked forwards a bit, before he was thrown back, flying off the staircase entirely, hitting the cold, half-frozen grass of the ground beside it.

Jeongin was trembling, trying his best to hold his hands up to cover his face in an attempt to feign defense; he couldn’t even cry, too shocked for his tear ducts to process what was happening. Taeyong approached him, watching the younger male flinch at his presence, suddenly angered again, landing another kick against the side of the smaller’s body. It caused Jeongin to squeeze up against the rough cinder brick wall of the warehouse, fingernails digging into the uneven concrete of what little building foundation peeked out from beneath the radically overgrown grass surrounding it. 

It only angered Taeyong more. “So gays really are cowards, huh?” He muttered, crouching down to Jeongin’s level, yanking at another handful of hair. Jeongin tried to shake his head ‘no’ within the hold, pulling away from Taeyong as hard as he could when the elder moved his face until it was close enough to his for him to feel his breath against the fresh bruises that were surely blooming across his jaw. All it did was hammer the final nail in Jeongin’s coffin. 

Three slams. On the first, Jeongin felt a burst of pain in his upper right skull, a loud crunch filling his ear. He barely registered the wall when it hit him, barely registered the hand yanking at his scalp when the pain of his head being slammed into the rough cinder dulled it out. His vision went fuzzy at the edges, blurry darkness seeping slowly in. 

On the second? The world went dark completely for a minute, vision trickling out until whatever he could see was decorated with a fine selection of black stars peppering over top of them. When the fuzz had faded, he was already reeling back for the third hit. And on the third, his vision cut out entirely, and he could no longer hold onto his consciousness, even the feeling of blood trickling down his face went dull, and he slumped forward against the wall; he blacked out. 

Taeyong spit on the side of Jeongin’s face that was visible. His mood was soured, tongue heavy in his mouth and regret already trying to crawl its way up his spine. His grip on the unconscious boy’s hair tightened, before releasing all at once as he threw his head down onto the ground below. Taeyong watched the blood fall from where it had previously pooled above his lip, trickling down Jeongin’s face until it reached the grass, soaking into the earth like water. 

Part of Taeyong wanted to regret it, wanted to feel guilty; part of him did feel regretful and guilty. Part of him wanted to cry, wanted to grab Jeongin and scoop him up in his arms and take him back into the warehouse to clean him up. But the other part of him, the same part that had beckoned him out there, didn’t. The other part of him wanted to leave the boy. The other part of him picked out the sounds of distant, mindless footsteps, the sound of growling and gurgling. He whipped around, nearly making eye contact with a zombie, mindless in the way it cocked it’s head to the side when it spotted him before shuffling towards them. That’s when that other part of him won, and he hurried back into the warehouse alone; he didn’t have time to think about the puddle of bloody, torn up bones and meat that would await the rest of them the next morning. He didn’t want to.


End file.
